IV. There a wide Common, blackened though and dreary V. So might a King, turning to Arts' rich treasure, VI. Towards the West I turn my weary spirit, And watch my pictures: one each night is mine. VII. There I have seen a sunset's crimson glory, Light up the misty world with dying rays. VIII. There I have seen the Clouds, in pomp and splendour, Their gold and purple banners all unfurl; There I have watched colours, more faint and tender and delicate tints upon a pearl. Than pure IX. Skies strewn with roses fading, fading slowly, X. Or parted clouds, as if asunder riven By some great angel—and beyond a space XI. Or stern dark walls of cloudy mountain ranges While, far on high, some little white clouds' changes XII. Or in wild wrath the affrighted clouds lay shattered, All in a wealth of ruined splendour scattered, XIII. What land or time can claim the Master Painter, XIV. So there I wait, until the shade has lengthened, I crawl once more back to the sultry town. XV. What Monarch, then, has nobler recreations SENT TO HEAVEN. HAD a message to send her, To her whom my soul loved best; But I had my task to finish, And she was gone home to rest. To rest in the far bright Heaven: I had a message to send her, So tender, and true, and sweet, I longed for an Angel to bear it, And lay it down at her feet. I placed it, one summer evening, And died in the crimson west. I gave it the Lark, next morning, And I watched it soar and soar; But its pinions grew faint and weary, And it fluttered to earth once more. To the heart of a Rose I told it; I laid it upon a Censer, And I saw the incense rise; But its clouds of rolling silver Could not reach the far blue skies. I cried, in my passionate longing :“Has the earth no Angel-friend Who will carry my Love the message my heart desires to send?" That Then I heard a strain of music, And my heart stood still to hear. |